Listen to me. Mr. Prout has a notion that you have been corrupting
your associates somehow or other."

"Mr. Prout has so many notions, Padre," said Beetle wearily. "Which
one is this?"

"Well, he tells me that he heard you telling a story in the twilight
in the form-room, in a whisper. And Orrin said, just as he opened the
door, 'Shut up, Beetle; it's too beastly.' Now then?"

"You remember Mrs. Oliphant's 'Beleaguered City' that you lent me
last term?" said. Beetle.

The Padre nodded.

"I got the notion out of that. Only, instead of a city, I made it the
Coll. in a fog--besieged by ghosts of dead boys, who hauled chaps out
of their beds in the dormitory. All the names are quite real. You
tell it in a whisper, you know with the names. Orrin didn't like it
one little bit. None of 'em have ever let me finish it. It gets just
awful at the end part."

"But why in the world didn't you explain to Mr. Prout, instead of
leaving him under the impression--?"

"Padre Sahib," said McTurk, "it isn't the least good explainin' to Mr.
Prout. If he hasn't one impression, he's bound to have another."

"He'd do it with the best o' motives. He's _in_loco_parentis_," purred
Stalky.